


The Pink in my Cheeks

by SkysongMA



Series: This Is Not About Love [15]
Category: Adventure Time
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, so so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkysongMA/pseuds/SkysongMA
Summary: G.B. isn't used to caring about sex. But now that he finally has Marshall Lee back, it's all he can think about.
Relationships: Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee
Series: This Is Not About Love [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/57209
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	The Pink in my Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> So let's call this a celebration of Obsidian, even though I actually started writing it right after the AT finale. I am very, very slow at writing smut.
> 
> This is set after the second to last story in the series, not "Serious," so right after G.B. and Marshall Lee have reconciled.

G.B. didn’t think everything would snap back to normal between them. Too much had changed. G.B. had friends, and Marshall Lee was famous. They had missed pieces of each other, and now they had to fill in the gaps.

For the most part, it went well. Everyone had already accepted Marshall Lee was hanging around. If anything, they seemed relieved he and G.B. were back together properly instead of trying to maintain their fragile barrier. And Marshall Lee already spent most of his nights at G.B.'s place. His erratic schedule could be irritating, but G.B. tried to ignore that. He liked the time to himself; he just wished he knew when to expect it.

Only one thing felt off, and G.B. wasn't able to put his finger on it for a few days, until he woke with Marshall Lee's face pressed into his shoulder. Usually, they slept back to back: Marshall Lee curled into the wall, and G.B. curled around him. G.B. shifted slightly, and Marshall Lee moved closer, sliding his leg between G.B.'s. G.B.'s whole body sparked, like turning on the lights in an empty room for the first time in years.

G.B. reached back to touch Marshall Lee's hip, almost unconsciously. He had thought he remembered what this was like, but there was a stark difference between a memory buried so deep it was worn smooth around the edges and Marshall Lee's real, present warmth against his back.

G.B. could tell Marshall Lee was still asleep, more or less, and he was glad; he needed a moment to sort out his thoughts. Surely there were still some thoughts in his head, even with the bright, pulsing need that had suddenly returned. He probably should have been annoyed that Marshall Lee could turn his desire for sex on and off so easily, but right now he felt too good to care.

Nevertheless. He stayed put, sorting his feelings into piles. Did he want this because he'd been lonely? Because he was starved for touch? Because he wanted to push their problems away?

The answer to all those questions felt like _no_ , and not because he had other things on his mind, so he decided it was safe to roll over, away from the light leaking through the curtains. He turned slowly, careful not to jostle Marshall Lee too much. Not that it mattered. Marshall Lee slept like a rock in G.B.'s bed.

G.B. gave himself a moment to look at Marshall Lee's face, since sleep was almost the only time all the care disappeared. Where had he gotten that scar on his forehead? It hadn't been there before he left.

G.B. kissed it, but Marshall Lee stirred, so G.B. pulled back. Marshall Lee had stopped waking like a startled cat; now he blinked slowly, his eyes coming into focus. "What time is it?" Or that was what G.B. thought he said. Calling his mumbles words was generous.

"Morning." G.B. shrugged. He hadn't picked up his glasses, so he couldn't see his alarm clock.

Marshall Lee mumbled something else and moved to hide his face in G.B.'s chest, but G.B. tilted his face up for a kiss. He felt Marshall Lee wake up and lean into him, but he stayed where he was.

G.B. broke the kiss after a few minutes. One arm was trapped under Marshall Lee, and the other was resting on his hip, but he didn’t know what to do next. Telling Marshall Lee what they were eating for dinner when he had trouble deciding or choosing his outfit for a show was one thing. Here in bed, the idea of taking charge held so much more weight, almost as much as kissing Marshall Lee again in the first place.

Marshall Lee yawned. "Fuck, I need to pee." He crawled over G.B., and it seemed like he touched G.B. as little as possible, but that might have only been because G.B. wanted Marshall Lee's hands everywhere.

G.B. rolled back over to face the window. Now that Marshall Lee was out of bed, he wasn't coming back. And without his warm weight overwhelming G.B.'s senses, everything felt less urgent. But G.B. didn't want to let go of it entirely either, so he pressed his face into Marshall Lee’s pillow and stayed there until Marshall Lee came back and yanked the covers off the bed.

*

Once could have been a fluke. Twice felt deliberate.

Not that it came up right away. If G.B. were stranded on a desert island, his main concern would be lack of reading material, not a sexual partner. And for the next few nights, Marshall Lee had shows, so G.B. was already in bed by the time Marshall Lee crawled over him to claim his spot in the corner. They kissed and talked, but never any more than that.

This night, Marshall Lee was just spending time with his band—one of them was getting married, so they were running around doing whatever they did for fun. Marshall Lee had invited him, but G.B. only looked at him. He wasn't sure what they all did together, but he knew it wasn't his thing. And anyway, having time apart was good for them. He did things with just Fionna, so Marshall Lee needed things with just his band.

He wasn't expecting the knock on his window. It wasn't even ten yet. G.B. pushed aside the curtains and opened the window, but only a sliver. He tried to be annoyed, but a smile kept pulling at the corners of his lips. Marshall Lee was beaming. "I gave you a key to my front door for a reason." He tugged Marshall Lee through the window, and Marshall Lee came willingly.

Marshall Lee draped his arms around G.B.'s neck. His shirt smelled like alcohol, but not his breath. "Yeah, but I like this. It drives you nuts."

"I see how it is," said G.B., but he couldn't pretend to be annoyed. Marshall Lee kissed him, and G.B. leaned into him, trapping Marshall Lee against the desk. He meant to put his hands on Marshall Lee's hips and leave them there, but Marshall Lee's shirt was loose, and it was easy to slip his fingers up under the fabric to touch his hipbones, the lean muscles of his stomach, the fine hair that disappeared beneath his belt.

Marshall Lee sighed, turning his head slightly. G.B. remembered this prompt, and he slid his mouth along Marshall Lee's jaw to his most sensitive spot in the corner. Marshall Lee sighed again, more deeply, but his arms remained limp around G.B.'s neck. G.B. didn't know what to do next, so he kissed Marshall Lee's mouth again. Marshall Lee kissed back, but nothing more.

G.B. stepped away, and Marshall Lee hopped up on the desk. He was still smiling, so G.B. tried to seem the same, even though his feelings had slipped through his fingers. He rested an elbow on Marshall Lee's knees to hold him still, pretending to move his cup of pens out of harm's reach. "So how was it? I didn't think you'd be back early. Or at all."

"You know I was coming back." He started running his fingers through G.B.'s hair. It felt better than it had any right, and G.B. wanted him to move down, to stroke the side of his neck, cup his jaw, kiss him again. He was so distracted by these thoughts he missed whatever Marshall Lee told him about his night, except for the ending. "They wanted to go get wasted at some bar downtown, so I figured I oughta tap out."

"I'm surprised." It came out mild; G.B. couldn't focus on much besides the steady motion of Marshall Lee's nails over his scalp.

Marshall Lee moved his hand, but only to touch the side of G.B.'s face. "Eh, I wasn't feeling it tonight. I missed you."

G.B. tilted his head up, and Marshall Lee kissed him slowly, softly, like a freeze frame in a movie. G.B. told himself that was all he needed, but before they got into bed, he excused himself and took his time washing his face, running cool water over his skin to distract himself from the memory of Marshall Lee's touch.

*

G.B. had difficulty talking about feelings at the best of times. Even simple things, like _I'm happy_ or _I wish I didn't have to go_ , refused to come out of his mouth, and instead he would say, _Eat more, before it gets cold_ , or _I can't remember where I set my jacket_.

G.B. felt so relaxed these days, and time kept slipping through his fingers. He hadn't realized how long he'd been holding his breath. It felt so good to exhale, to lie in bed with Marshall Lee's fingers carding through his hair as rain tapped against the window. Of course they carped at each other. They would never talk otherwise. But they knew the truth now, so it felt light and meaningless, the lines in a sitcom before the laugh track.

G.B. didn't want to disturb anything. He wanted to keep being certain Marshall Lee would return, even if he refused to use his key or check his voicemail or hang his towel on the rack instead of the showerhead.

And it wasn't like sex was important. Or it shouldn't have been. He could count the number of times he'd thought of it during their stretch apart and still have enough fingers to pick out a tune on a piano.

But third time paid for all.

***

G.B. had caved on two things since Marshall Lee moved in. The first was replacing his couch with something they could share comfortably, whether G.B. was at one end and Marshall Lee the other, or whether they lay together like now, with G.B. on his back and Marshall Lee sideways on top of him. The second was buying a television. They didn't watch enough to justify the purchase, but he had to admit, he enjoyed lying together like this, instead of struggling for an angle where they could both see his laptop or tablet screen.

Netflix prompted them to know if they were still watching, and Marshall Lee turned over to rest his elbows on G.B.'s chest. "I bet you want to go to bed."

"It's not a school night, but you know I like to keep my schedule when I can. It's not easy with you in and out all the time." He picked up Marshall Lee's hand and kissed his knuckles to make his meaning clear. _Spending time with you is more important than my sleep._

Marshall Lee smiled. It was slow and secret, and it made G.B.'s breath catch. "You fucking weirdo."

"Language," said G.B., but he kissed Marshall Lee's knuckles again, lingering on his skin. At least this always came out right. "I love you too, Marshall Lee."

Marshall Lee chuckled and kissed the corner of G.B.'s mouth. G.B. tipped his head up to turn it into a real kiss, and then Marshall Lee shifted between G.B.'s legs, pressing their hips together—only for a moment, but enough to remind G.B. He wanted to put his hand on the base of Marshall Lee's skull and hold him there, turn the kiss into something hot and desperate. But he couldn't seem to move, so instead he lay there, heavy like humidity with no promise of a storm.

He didn't pull away on purpose, exactly, but he couldn't keep burning without something to put out the fire. He shifted out from under Marshall Lee, leaving him pressed against the back of the couch. They stared at each other. G.B. could have closed the distance between them and accepted another quiet, chaste kiss. That should have been enough. But he stood, even though his legs felt weak.

Marshall Lee looked up at him. G.B. waited for the anger or the confusion, but it didn't come. "You wanna go to bed?" he said, his voice very quiet.

And again, G.B. should have nodded. But all he could think of was slipping off his clothes, climbing between freshly cleaned sheets and pulling Marshall Lee down without breaking contact, kissing him while thunderclouds burst overhead. "I—" He swallowed. "I don't understand."

G.B. kept himself still, waiting for Marshall Lee to bolt. He hoped it wouldn't happen, but he hoped for many things about Marshall Lee. That didn't mean they came to pass.

Then Marshall Lee let out a slow breath. His expression gentled, and he sat up, patting the space beside him. "Baby. Come and sit down."

Now G.B. wanted to bolt. But running away wouldn't do anything. He took in a deep breath and let it out, just to prove to himself that he could, that his chest wouldn't catch, that his air wouldn't disappear. Then he sat down. Marshall Lee didn't touch him, which was for the best since anything would set G.B. back alight right now.

Marshall Lee didn't speak for a moment, and G.B. bit the inside of his cheek to make sure nothing would come out of his mouth. He'd say something awful now, just to stop it, and that was as bad as Marshall Lee leaving without a word. If Marshall Lee was going to stay, then G.B. had to watch his mouth. It was only fair.

Then Marshall Lee picked up G.B.'s hand and twined their fingers together. "I'm sorry," he said, turning to face G.B. "I should've talked to you instead of being a dumbass."

"You need to stop calling yourself names," said G.B., instead of _what does_ this _mean, because I can't stand not knowing._

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know what I mean. Look at me, babe." G.B. lifted his eyes, because doing otherwise would be petulant. "It's hard for me too, you know. Spitting this shit out. I didn't think it would come up."

"Is there even a point in asking you to define your antecedents?"

Marshall Lee ignored this. "I just… I had a lot of thinking to do. You know. During all this." He gestured vaguely; G.B. didn't feel like interrogating that, because pressing on the memories would still make them bleed. "And… fuck." He pressed his face against G.B.'s shoulder. G.B. looked down in surprise, watching Marshall Lee take deep, shaky breaths.

"Lift up your head for a moment," said G.B., because he couldn't say _I didn't realize you were upset too_. Marshall Lee did, so G.B. lifted his arm and Marshall Lee curled up beside him.

Marshall Lee bit his lip, looking at the blank TV instead of G.B. now. When he spoke, his voice was flat—but not like he was angry. It was the same tone he used to talk about his mother, or about Simone. "I mean. I guess you already figured this out, but it took me a while. I'm kinda… I'm pretty fucked up about sex, I guess." He sighed, scrubbing one hand along the side of his face. "Like. I guess I knew it wasn't normal, all the stuff I did when I was a teenager. But I didn't get it until I started hanging out with normal people who, like, went to high school and shit. I don't…"

He looked back at G.B., finally. "I mean. I don't want to go into it right now. I know I oughta tell you. Or somebody. But all that shit's scabbed over, and I don't feel like picking at it just to see if it's fixed yet, you know?"

G.B. tightened his arm around Marshall Lee. But he couldn't figure out what to say. The problem had been enormous enough before, but now it was a full eclipse, blocking everything else out.

"It's not like that, babe," said Marshall Lee, softly. He turned in G.B.'s grip so he could trace G.B.'s jaw with his fingers. "I'm not… scarred or anything. It's just stuff that happened, like all the shit my mom did when I was a kid. But I knew that wasn't normal, even when I was little. I only just figured out some of—this stuff wasn't, you understand?"

G.B. nodded. He caught Marshall Lee's hand and held it there. "I didn't." He swallowed, because he had to make this part come out. "I didn't mean—"

"Baby." Marshall Lee kissed him, soft at first and then deeper, harder. G.B.'s hand tightened over Marshall Lee's, and he couldn't suppress a low noise, deep in his throat. His free hand found the base of Marshall Lee's neck, digging his nails into Marshall Lee's skin.

Marshall Lee moved back abruptly; his pupils were blown, and his breath was ragged. "You didn't do anything wrong. I should've said this like a real person instead of being a fucking coward, but I didn't want to—"

His eyes moved over G.B.'s face, and he slipped his hand down to trace the pulse in G.B.'s neck. "I really want you to fuck me right now. I wanted that the second you kissed me." He kissed G.B. again, brief but desperate, and pressed his face to G.B.'s neck, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I missed you so fucking much."

G.B. looked up at the ceiling to collect himself. Marshall Lee didn't touch him anymore, though his hand rested heavy on the side of G.B.'s neck. "I didn't realize," said G.B., his words as halting as if he was trying to speak in a new language for the first time. "I thought—" _That you didn't want me._ But he couldn't get that out, since the whole idea of want still didn't make much sense. "I was confused. But that's sensible. I don't want to rush either."

Marshall Lee relaxed at last, pressing his forehead to G.B.'s. "Sorry," he repeated. He closed his eyes. "I was scared, I guess."

Speaking was always easier when Marshall Lee wasn't looking at him. "Marshall Lee. I know. But you—you don't need to be. Not about that." He kissed Marshall Lee's cheek. "I love you, and I understand. We'll both do better as we go along."

"That'd be nice." Marshall Lee moved to catch G.B.'s mouth, then paused. He opened his eyes and moved back, frowning but not in a way that worried G.B. "I guess—shit." He turned away, but not to flee—he needed space as much as G.B. did. He pressed his hand to his forehead. "I mean, it's not normal, right? Thinking you'll leave because I don't want to fuck yet? That's not how it's supposed to be, is it?"

G.B. put his hand on Marshall Lee's knee, waiting for Marshall Lee to turn back. Which he did, since Marshall Lee had no patience. "No, it's not. If you stayed here and never touched me again for the rest of your life, I would be happy. Do you understand?"

Marshall Lee's eyes moved over his face, and G.B. forced himself to sit still. Then Marshall Lee sighed and leaned his head against G.B.'s chest, cuddling into him. "No. But that's the kind of shit I'm talking about." He picked up G.B.'s hand and held it. "I wouldn't ask you to wait _that_ long."

"It's not waiting." He pressed his lips to Marshall Lee's hair. "Not when both of us are already here."

"Got me there." He ran his thumb along G.B.'s palm. "I mean… I guess I just want to make sure that my shit stays my shit, you know? I don't want to bring anything bad here if I can help it." He sighed. "I didn't want to talk to you or think about anything, so I fucked you instead, even though I knew it meant something different to you. And it can't be that way anymore. Not if this is going to work." He turned his head to look up into G.B.'s eyes, and the focus there made a shiver run down G.B.'s spine. "And it'll work. I'm not leaving you again."

G.B. couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, so he just nodded. Marshall Lee got the gist, since he tucked his cheek up next to G.B.'s. "I guess I figured it wouldn't come up. That never seemed like a big priority to you."

G.B. wanted to reply. Marshall Lee had explained, and now it was G.B.'s turn to say, _I thought it wouldn't either, but it did._ But what came out was, "We really should go to bed. If we stay like this on the couch, we'll both get backaches."

Marshall Lee chuckled. "What are we, eighty? Next thing you'll be asking me where you left your teeth."

"I'm hoping by the time we're eighty, they'll have more practical solutions than dentures. They're expensive."

That just made Marshall Lee laugh harder, and by the time they got to the bedroom, everything was normal.

*

More or less normal, anyway. G.B. kept himself quiet, even though things kept bubbling up. He found himself wondering what Marshall Lee was doing during his long showers, what it would be like to nudge open the door and join him. Or to let the food burn on the stove while he kissed Marshall Lee, long and hard and reckless. To pull him inside a closet after a show like the rest of the band did with their girlfriends or groupies.

But all things considered, they weren't bad thoughts to put away.

Marshall Lee tried to keep them busy to make up for it. Instead of hanging out on the couch or collapsing into bed, he coaxed G.B. out to places they both remembered. Breaking into the mall pool was still easy, after all, and now a family of foxes lived in the park by campus that they could only find if they went out early in the morning or late at night. And G.B. had a few things to show him—not by breaking and entering. All the buildings on campus stayed open until midnight. There was the weird collection of taxidermied animals on the third floor of the library, tucked into a corner behind neglected stacks of books. Or the collection of abandoned sculpture projects in the basement of the art building.

They had a good time, and it didn't come up again, not really. Not during lazy mornings when they kissed, languid and slow, before G.B.'s alarm went off and they had to get up. Not after long nights spent at Cake's house, helping her babyproof the house before her due date.

But G.B. couldn't shake his thoughts, not really. He tried writing them down, but his hand wouldn't move any more than his mouth. He tried to explain to Monochrome, but for once he couldn't fill the silence between the two of them.

As usual, it came out when he wasn't expecting it.

*

He and Fionna didn't spend as much time together these days—at least, not the two of them alone. Now she had Kala, and he had Marshall Lee, and both of them were trying to feel the way around the edges of those relationships.

So G.B. agreed when she asked if they could go out for milkshakes, just the two of them like old times. Something was on her mind, so he didn't object when she ordered them to go and led him to the skate park. They sat down on one of the benches in front of the fence. It was already dark, so no one was around.

Fionna ate all her whipped cream, but she didn't take some of G.B.'s when he offered. This was serious. He waited, scraping the cookie pieces off the sides and eating those before the ice cream.

Finally, Fionna said, "If I ask you something, can you promise not to tell Cake about it?"

At least he didn't have to worry she was pregnant. Presumably. "That depends on what something is. Are you feeling all right, Fionna?"

She sipped her milkshake instead of answering, but it didn't feel like she was upset. Then, suddenly, she blushed and pulled down the ears of her hat, something he hadn't seen her do in ages.

"What is it, Fionna? Did something happen?" He touched her elbow, which only made her blush darker.

"Not yet." She covered her face with her hands in a futile effort to hide her blush. "But. You know. Things… things might happen." She parted her fingers so he could see her raise her eyebrows.

G.B. wrinkled his nose. "Fionna. Is this about sex?"

"Shh!" Fionna said, as though there were anyone around to hear.

"So that's a yes." He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees. "Fionna, dear, you know you can tell me anything, but in this case I think Cake would have a more relevant perspective."

"Cake is straight, Jeebles," Fionna mumbled. "I can't ask her." G.B. touched her elbow again, and she took her hands away from her face.

"Fionna. Dear. Breathe."

She took in a deep breath and let it out, straightening her shoulders. "Okay, I can talk about this. I'm almost seventeen now. I'm a grownup." Her eyes were clearer when she looked at G.B. again. "Anyway, you know Cake will tell me I should wait. And it's not like—we're not there yet, okay?" She dropped her head back with a groan of disgust. "Sheesh, this is terrible."

"It's all right, Fionna. I understand. It's not easy for me to talk about these things either." He patted her knee.

"You can talk about anything," Fionna muttered, but not seriously. She propped her elbows on the back of the bench. "I don't want her to freak out over nothing, you know? We're not that far, and we're not gonna get that far for a while, I don't think. That's what I wanted to talk about."

"You'll have to be more specific. This is a broad topic. I know you already know about safe sex—yes, even with girls. The two of you don't have to worry much, I don't think, but still. If you have questions, I can help you with that."

Fionna shook her head. "It's not that. It's…" She fidgeted. "I mean. How do you… know you want it?" G.B. blinked, and Fionna leaned forward, hiding her face again. "I know, I know, it's a really dumb question, but—"

"Fionna."

That tone of voice never failed; Fionna looked up, blinking, and G.B. leaned toward her before she could remember to be self conscious. "Fionna. It's not a stupid question. You startled me, that's all. I didn't—" He glanced down at his knees. "I didn't know we were the same."

He heard the surprise in her voice. "But—you and Marshall Lee—I mean—" She broke off, twining her fingers around one of her hat's ears.

"We did before, yes," said G.B., working hard to keep his voice even. He didn't want to sound cold; Fionna would get the wrong idea. She didn't understand that some people didn't blush and stammer when they were embarrassed. "But… that's not how I work either, I suppose. I've never been interested in anyone but Marshall Lee, and it didn't happen immediately, either." He straightened his legs and smoothed down his khakis.

It still wasn't easy, thinking about their first time together. But instead what came to mind was all the moments from the past few months, where he was left aching for something he hardly understood.

Fionna waited, looking at him like he knew everything there was to know. She'd never stopped looking at him that way, but now it didn't feel so wrong.

"It's just another form of love. That's the way I know, at least." A blush crept up the back of his neck. "It might not be the same for you, and it's okay if you decide you don't want to. You know that, right? You just need to be honest about it. Kala wouldn't want to hurt you."

But Fionna's expression had turned thoughtful. "I think that makes sense. I tried reading some of Cake's romance novels and fanfiction and stuff, but it didn't feel right, you know? All the people there just knew what they wanted to do with—you know. Bodies. But I don't feel that way about Kala. I don't feel that way about anyone. But—if she wants it—" She blushed. "I guess it's something I want to give her, even if I'm not sure about it for myself."

He could tell she had more to say, but he was glad she was staring off into the middle distance because he felt still all over, like something had startled him.

Then she sighed. "I don't know how to tell her that without being weird. I don't even know if she's thinking about sex."

G.B. slid his arm around her shoulders. "You can't know unless you ask her, dear. And you just told me, didn't you?" He paused, thinking of Marshall Lee's face during their last serious talk. "I think… I think people get different things from sex. If you only want to have sex to be close to Kala, there's nothing wrong with that. If she does or doesn't want it for a different reason, that's fine too. You need to ask to make sure you don't confuse each other."

Fionna sighed, leaning against him. "All this talking stuff is complicated. And being around her turns my head into goop."

"Yes, well, she's as crazy about you, so I know you'll work it out. You need to trust that everything will be fine."

Fionna tilted her face up so she could meet his eyes. "Is that what you do with Marshall Lee?"

He rubbed her arm. "It is now, I suppose."

***

A few days later, Fionna texted him several heart emojis, so G.B. assumed she'd worked it out. But he found himself thinking about their conversation—usually right before he went to sleep, when Marshall Lee had already dropped off and he was left turning the day over in his mind. Again, he'd had worse things to turn over.

But if he wanted to fix this, he needed to say it, not just think about it, and getting started was the difficult part.

Actually, the difficult part was getting a day with Marshall Lee when they had enough time to devote to the topic. Marshall Lee's band was picking up more steam since they'd been featured on another musician's YouTube channel, and G.B. had school because he always had school.

Not to mention when they did have time together, it was easier to push away complicated thoughts and enjoy himself. He'd gone so long with so little light in his life.

Still. He finally found a Saturday where both of them had no obligations. Marshall Lee's bassist was taking his honeymoon, and G.B. was more than caught up on his schoolwork. Marshall Lee wanted to sleep in, so G.B. let him and spent the morning making cupcakes. Baking didn't calm him down, but it required enough concentration and attention to keep him from ruminating.

When Marshall Lee finally woke up, G.B. was constructing decorations. He'd decided on white chocolate circles painted with a stained glass design because he was awful at art, and this way it looked purposeful. He concentrated on keeping his hands steady, on painting perfect right angles, instead of listening to the running water.

Marshall Lee came in the kitchen, wearing boxers and one of G.B.'s button-downs which he hadn't actually buttoned. The sight of Marshall Lee's bare stomach—the trail of hair leading down below his boxers—made G.B. smear red edible paint across the chocolate; he wiped it clean with his thumb before it could set.

"This is the part where I tell you I forgot to do the laundry while you were in class yesterday," said Marshall Lee, rubbing his eyes. "And that is a lot of cupcakes. I thought you said there wasn't anything going on."

"I already noticed, and there isn't. I had to find something to do with my time." He should have said something else, kept the moment going, but he wanted to push the shirt off Marshall Lee's shoulders so badly his hands were shaking.

He set down the chocolate and the paintbrush. Marshall Lee reached for one of the painted discs, but G.B. grabbed his wrist. Marshall Lee glanced up, and G.B. jerked his hand back. "At least eat one I haven't finished yet." He'd gotten better at making jokes, but that came out wrong, and he dropped his eyes, looking blankly at his paint palette.

Marshall Lee picked up the tray of finished decorations and moved them to the other side of the table so he could sit there instead. G.B. stared at his knees. He thought he could feel the heat coming off Marshall Lee's skin, but that was ridiculous. Marshall Lee gripped his chin and lifted his face up. "Are you okay? You don't go full British Bake Off unless something's bothering you."

G.B. stared at him, but figuring out what to say had gotten even more difficult. Instead, he turned his face so he could kiss Marshall Lee's palm, the heel of his hand, the center of his wrist. His skin was so warm, and he smelled like G.B.'s body wash.

Marshall Lee touched G.B.'s cheekbone with his free hand. "Baby, what is it?"

G.B. let go of Marshall Lee's hand, because if they kept touching, he'd never talk. He got to his feet. "I need a minute. I spent all morning on these." G.B. moved the entire operation off the table and onto the counter. He was proud of the work, and he needed to be sure he'd have something else to do if things went badly.

When he turned back, Marshall Lee was twisting his fingers together: pointer to thumb, pointer to thumb. G.B. took his hands and pressed them to the table to stop him. "Nothing is wrong," he managed, because that was factually true. "I am just… so bad at this."

"Hey, don't go stealing my line, babe," said Marshall Lee, but his voice cracked. He wouldn't meet G.B.'s eyes.

G.B. looked at the ceiling. "I talked to Fionna the other day. About sex." Marshall Lee shifted, but didn't speak. "She's—she's like me, more or less. And it helped me think."

Marshall Lee stilled. "About what?"

G.B. took in a breath. His heart was pounding, but the air came easy. He looked down at Marshall Lee, tightening his grip on Marshall Lee's hands so he couldn't move away. "If you hadn't come back, I—I don't know what would have happened to me. Part of me was dead, and I would have let it rot. Some of it was trusting people, and some of it was—this."

He expected Marshall Lee to play dumb, but Marshall Lee didn't speak, watching G.B.'s face with an unreadable expression.

That was good. His words came faster now, water spilling from a dam. "I love you, and I want you, and if you feel the same, then I don't see why we need to keep holding back. I need… I need that _connection_ again, Marshall Lee. The same way I want to nag you when you're sick or make you breakfast in the morning. I can't relax and I can't socialize and I can't say things like a normal person, but I can give you this. I can show you how perfect you are to me."

He cleared his throat, taking a step back and letting go of Marshall Lee. He wanted to say it wasn't frightening anymore, stripping himself bare. But it was just as terrifying as the first time he put a hand on Marshall Lee's skin. "But—I respect everything you said the last time we talked about it, and I meant what I said. You can tell me no as many times as you need to. If the answer is always no, that's all right too." He swallowed. "Parts of what we had were broken, but not this. _You_ weren't broken."

Marshall Lee's lips had parted, but he didn't speak immediately, like he was waiting to be sure G.B. was done. G.B. dug his fingernails into his palms. Marshall Lee leaned forward, reaching for G.B.'s hands. G.B. kept his distance, just in case—now that he had spoken his piece, he didn't want to crowd Marshall Lee any longer.

But Marshall Lee tugged on his hands, so G.B. stepped forward until their knees brushed. Marshall Lee reached up to touch G.B.'s face. "Honey. The answer was never no. I wanted to be careful. I wasn't last time."

"I wasn't either. But things are different now." He swallowed. "At least—at least I think so."

Marshall Lee brushed his fingertips over G.B.'s jaw. "I think so too," and he leaned up to kiss G.B. just as G.B. leaned down to meet him.

The difference was immediate; Marshall Lee was _there_. He slid his hands down and started working on the buttons of G.B.'s shirt, but G.B. knocked his hands away to push off Marshall Lee's clothes instead.

Marshall Lee bit his bottom lip, but he didn't drop his eyes. "Damn, baby, you weren't kidding."

G.B. felt a flush creep into his cheeks, but he made himself keep looking at Marshall Lee. "I know what I want now. I've spent too much of my life trying to pretend I didn't."

Marshall Lee hummed, resting his hands on the table. "So what _do_ you want?"

G.B. stood still, letting images and thoughts wash over him. They should have been overwhelming now that he could finally do something about them.

But Marshall Lee was there in front of him, perfectly calm, and G.B. could see the outline of his cock against his boxers. He grabbed Marshall Lee's wrists and pressed them down. "Don't move." He pressed his mouth to Marshall Lee's neck and bit; Marshall Lee's breath hitched, and he let out a little weak whimper, and he dropped his head back to give G.B. more room.

G.B. took advantage, tracing his mouth down the muscle running from the base of Marshall Lee's neck to his collarbone. He lingered there, drinking in the way Marshall Lee twitched and gasped under his touch.

"Jeeze, Jeebles," Marshall Lee said, his voice shaking. "Are we gonna fuck in the kitchen or something?"

"Absolutely not." G.B. lifted his head. He had to swallow before speaking, but it got easier every time. "I'm going to blow you in the kitchen. We're going to have sex in the bedroom."

Marshall Lee stared at him, blinking. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "Jesus, this is so fucked." He grabbed G.B.'s face and pulled him down for a kiss. "How is that the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life? You can't even swear."

"I can, but not right now." He capped the kiss and moved back. "You need to hush. I'm busy."

Marshall Lee grinned. "I could get used to this.”

G.B. pressed his lips against his sternum. "That's the idea, dear. Now _hush_."

Marshall Lee did stop talking, but only because G.B. palmed his boxers. Marshall Lee's hands clenched into fists, but he kept still as G.B. worked his way down Marshall Lee's body to the top of his underwear. "Lift up." Marshall Lee did; G.B. could pull down his boxers. G.B. threw them aside and allowed himself a minute to stand there, taking in Marshall Lee with nothing between them.

"How do I always end up naked before you?" Marshall Lee said.

G.B. ignored this. He put his hand on the center of Marshall Lee's chest and shoved. Marshall Lee fell back on the table, skin leaping under G.B.’s palm.

He wanted to lick the precum off the head of Marshall Lee's cock. He hadn't been able to stop picturing it. But Marshall Lee was watching him with his teeth dug into his lower lip, and G.B. knew he had to draw it out.

So instead he ran his hands over Marshall Lee's thighs, relishing the coarseness of the hair there. He pushed them apart, slowly, and pressed his mouth to the inside of one knee. Marshall Lee shuddered, gasping when G.B. slid his lips up the inside of his leg. He bit down, just gently, and was rewarded with a groan.

He moved his mouth to the opposite leg, breathing in Marshall Lee's scent.

"Is this payback?" said Marshall Lee. His voice cracked.

"Some of us like to take our time with presents," G.B. replied, digging his nails into Marshall Lee's thigh. "I believe I told you to hush."

Marshall Lee was going to ignore him, so G.B. put his mouth on his cock. Marshall Lee bucked his hips immediately, then stilled.

G.B. ran his tongue around the head. The taste was the same, and it made him ache almost as much as Marshall Lee's broken moan. G.B. hesitated, then let Marshall Lee's cock slip free. "I. I want you to—"

Marshall Lee pushed himself up on his elbows, and his eyes widened. "You sure, babe?"

He nodded because speaking was beyond him, and Marshall Lee swallowed. He stretched out again, his hands clenching and unclenching. When he wasn't actually looking at G.B., G.B. could say what he meant. "I don't want you to hold back any longer. I want you here with me, whatever that ends up meaning." He paused, tracing a finger over the line of hair that led to Marshall Lee's cock. "But don't come yet."

"What if I don't feel like listening?" Marshall Lee murmured. His voice was a low rumble in his throat.

G.B. pinched him. "Be good. For once in your life." He ran his tongue over the side of Marshall Lee's cock, following the line of precum there exactly like he'd been dreaming of for—God, _forever_.

Marshall Lee shivered. G.B. took him in his mouth again, moving slowly to get the trick back. When Marshall Lee's hips bucked, G.B. knew he had it right and took the cue to take him in even deeper. Marshall Lee shifted again, and they caught each other's rhythm, moving in sync the way they could follow each other on a stage.

He tasted so good; the heat was just right, and G.B.'s thoughts slipped away. _This_ was what he had missed. The whole world had dissolved into the taste of salt and the noises Marshall Lee couldn't hold back. His fingers were digging into G.B.'s scalp, and he was gasping, his hips twitching like he couldn't keep still.

Marshall Lee’s fingers tightened in G.B.'s hair, pulling him away, and G.B. backed off immediately. He was aware of his own erection, of his knees pressing into the tile, of the pounding of his heart, but only distantly, the way he knew the rest of the solar system existed.

Marshall Lee had to wet his lips before he could speak; G.B. watched his tongue flick out and realized his own mouth was dry. "Hate to cut you off when you're busy, but I think we have other stuff to get to." His voice was hoarse, like he'd been shouting.

G.B. licked his own lips, enjoying the way Marshall Lee stared at his mouth, the lingering taste of Marshall Lee on his mouth. He stood, as though this were just another day. "Really? So soon?"

Marshall Lee growled and pulled him down. He kissed G.B. viciously, his nails digging into the base of G.B.'s skull. The other hand fumbled at G.B.'s belt. "When did you pick up this fucking _attitude_?" he snarled without taking his mouth from G.B.'s.

Just for that, G.B. pinned him, leaning over his elbow and ignoring Marshall Lee's attempt to push away. "It's called learning from the best."

Marshall Lee tried to free himself, but G.B. had height, strength, and leverage. "I am going to get you for this," he said, but his eyes were bright and his grin was the most delicious kind of wicked.

"Counting on it, darling." He let Marshall Lee up. Marshall Lee tried to pull him into another kiss, but G.B. held him off. "Do you remember what I said?"

"Oh, I'm never forgetting that. But you know me. Got to push my luck somehow."

G.B. shook his head. "That is neither here nor there. We're going to bed." He turned away before Marshall Lee could find another way to distract him.

When they did reach the bedroom, G.B. hesitated. _Now_ his thoughts overwhelmed him; standing here with Marshall Lee naked, working the kinks out of his spine, G.B. couldn't decide where he wanted to go first.

But Marshall Lee turned to him and laced his fingers together at the back of G.B.'s neck. "I bet you don't even have lube."

His tone was just enough to annoy G.B.; he leaned forward and bit the side of Marshall Lee's throat, tasting his sweat. "I do, actually. Unlike you, I believe in being prepared."

"I am _so_ prepared," said Marshall Lee, but his voice was breathier than usual. "Come here. We've got other stuff to do first."

G.B. let Marshall Lee lead him to the bed.

Marshall Lee sat, looking G.B. up and down with the kind of concentration he saved for music. He stroked his hand over the bulge in G.B.'s pants but didn't linger. "You look good, you know?" he murmured.

"So do you," G.B. said softly. He cupped Marshall Lee's cheek.

Marshall Lee cocked his head, holding G.B.'s eyes. "You're right," he said at last. "It's different now."

"Is different bad or good?" G.B. was relatively certain of the answer, but _relatively_ wasn't good enough.

In answer, Marshall Lee kissed G.B.'s palm, the base of his wrist, the same way G.B. had. "Different's real good, sweetheart." His voice was a pleasant rumble against G.B.'s skin.

G.B. stroked his cheek. "Good. Now I believe you were complaining about my clothes?" It got easier each time; he could get used to this, with Marshall Lee gazing at him like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Marshall Lee hummed and slipped out of G.B.'s hold so he could push G.B.'s shirt up and off his shoulders. G.B. couldn't hold back his gasp; his whole body was suddenly awake and alive and _burning_. The brush of Marshall Lee’s fingers left trails of sparks on his skin, like the afterimage of a firework.

But Marshall Lee didn't touch him, not properly; his fingertips brushed over G.B.'s collarbones, his biceps, but they were there and gone. He trailed down G.B.'s chest to his belt, feather light, so soft it was unbearable. G.B. tried to keep still, but he couldn't help leaning his hips into Marshall Lee's palms when Marshall Lee unbuckled his belt.

"Be a good boy now," said Marshall Lee, trying to imitate G.B., and G.B. hissed at him. 

Marshall Lee ran his fingers over the line of G.B.’s belt, but he didn’t remove it. His fingers lingered over the button, the zipper, but he didn’t do anything with either. He traced his fingers over the bulge in G.B.’s jeans, but he didn’t provide any pressure, any blessed friction. All the _buts_ were going to drive G.B. to drink.

“Oh, baby, I could get used to this,” Marshall Lee murmured, both so close and so far away.

G.B. swallowed. The torture felt so good, but every pulse point on his body was going to burst with need. “Are you going to keep amusing yourself or _do_ something?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Marshall Lee dropped his hands to his sides, a smirk playing over the edge of his lips. “Well, I dunno, babe. Thought you were gonna do the fucking, and I was supposed to play nice and keep my hands to myself.”

G.B. seized Marshall Lee’s chin, rougher than he meant, but he knew by the way Marshall Lee immediately stilled, all his attention fixed on G.B., that it had been the right choice. “I _am_ going to fuck you,” said G.B. His voice didn’t sound like his own—but it was freeing. His body betrayed him in so many small ways every day of his life, but it could also do this. He could grip Marshall Lee hard enough to bruise; he could push him down on the bed; he could revel in Marshall Lee’s breathless stare.

G.B. reached for his belt, running his thumb over the leather, drinking in the way Marshall Lee’s eyes followed it. He removed his belt and let it drop to the floor. Popped the button of his pants. Unzipped his fly, slowly. He stepped out of his jeans and boxers in one quick movement and kicked them aside.

He turned to the bedside table for the lube and condoms. When Marshall Lee made as if to move, G.B. only glanced over his shoulder, and he stilled, his fingers digging into G.B.’s duvet.

G.B. set the lube and condoms on the end table, deliberately, and turned back to Marshall Lee. “Stand up for a moment, love. I don’t want to have to wash that.”

Even as he stood, Marshall Lee let out a little bark of hoarse laughter. “Oh, thank fuck it’s still you.”

“It is me.” G.B. moved to kiss him, just lightly; Marshall Lee tried to lean into him, reaching for G.B.’s hip, but G.B. moved out of reach. “I told you, I know what I want. And what I want is only one load of extra laundry.” He took the duvet off the bed and draped it over his office chair. When he turned back, Marshall Lee sat back down on the bed, running his hands over his bare thighs.

G.B. crossed the room in two strides and kissed Marshall Lee hard enough to pin him down to the bed. Marshall Lee moaned: his voice impossibly deep, his hips bucking against G.B.’s, his hands coming up to dig into G.B.’s ass.

G.B. stroked Marshall Lee’s cock once, twice. Marshall Lee put one hand on the back of G.B.’s neck, turning his head so he could whisper. “Baby, baby, please, none of that bullshit. I need you to fuck me. I needed you to fuck me for so goddamn long.” He dragged his teeth over the curve of G.B.’s ear; G.B. shuddered.

“Yes.” G.B. pinned Marshall Lee down with one arm so he could reach for the lube and the condoms. “Up on the bed properly.” He let Marshall Lee free so he could move over, expecting some bad behavior or at least a smart remark. But Marshall Lee seemed too far gone; his pupils were blown, and his breath came shallowly. His eyes lingered on G.B’s face as he settled himself.

When he stilled, G.B. crawled up on the bed and leaned over Marshall Lee. He paused, resting a palm on Marshall Lee’s hip, and swallowed. “I love you, you know.”

Marshall Lee growled, pushing himself up on his elbow. “I love you too, but I’m going to _murder_ you if you draw this out anymore.”

He had a fair point. G.B. spread lube over his fingers, enjoying the slide. When it warmed, he balanced himself over Marshall Lee, who reached up to grip his thighs as G.B. slid a single finger inside him.

Marshall Lee gasped and dug his nails into G.B.’s thighs, but with frustration, not ecstasy. “What did I _just say_.”

“I’m not drawing it out, love.” He bent over so he could kiss the pulse leaping in Marshall Lee’s neck. “But I want to fuck you again in the morning, so a little gentleness is called for.” Nevertheless. He added a second finger.

“I hate it when you’re right,” Marshall Lee muttered. He pulled G.B.’s face to his for a deep, endless kiss.

Marshall Lee appeared to have calmed; his breathing slowed, and he seemed to accept the slower pace. G.B. shifted the angle of his fingers, searching inside until he found the right point. He pressed hard, and Marshall Lee gasped and arched his back, digging his fingers into the sheets.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, please.” Marshall Lee was outright babbling now, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the bed, and G.B. really wanted to draw it out, but the sounds Marshall Lee was making were unbearable.

And… and they had all the time in the world. They could do this as often as they liked. G.B. would wake up with Marshall Lee in his bed every morning for the rest of their lives; his side of the covers would never be empty and cold.

He pushed that thought away and slid his fingers free, wiping them clean before picking the lube back up. He took his time lubing himself and sliding on the condom, partly because Marshall Lee was watching hungrily, his lips parted, and partially because—he never touched himself this way. His hips never followed the movement of his hand; he never grew breathless and shaky.

But he could only linger so long. He bent over Marshall Lee, using one hand to brace himself and the other to guide himself inside. He went slowly, pressing Marshall Lee down when he tried to rush the process. To keep him still, G.B. kissed him, swallowing the soft, breathy sounds of needs Marshall Lee made.

When he was fully inside, he pressed his forehead against Marshall Lee’s shoulder, breathing shallowly. He’d forgotten how overwhelming this was. What it was like to live in his body instead of his mind.

Marshall Lee touched his back, nudging G.B. to get him to lift his head. “You all right, babe?” The words were faint, but all his attention was focused on G.B.’s face.

Looking into Marshall Lee’s eyes steadied him. “Yes. I just—missed you.”

Marshall Lee took G.B.’s face in his hand and kissed him, and even though G.B. was on top, Marshall Lee took control, setting the pace. G.B. didn’t fight it. He gave himself over to the tension building inside him, letting everything besides their points of connection disappear. When he realized he was about to fall over the edge, he caught Marshall Lee in hand and worked him hard. Marshall Lee sucked in a sharp breath and arched his back. Whimpering, he dug his fingernails into G.B.’s back as he came. The extra bite of pain was too much; G.B. buried himself inside Marshall Lee, his whole body pulsing and alight.

The moment lasted forever, the two of them joined the way they should have been all along, and when his orgasm finally faded, he felt like sobbing with overwhelm. But Marshall Lee was tracing his fingers down G.B.’s spine, gentle and soothing, and he came back to himself in bits and pieces.

Marshall Lee was still shivering underneath him, but G.B. made himself pull free and deal with the condom, if only because his legs would barely hold him up. His skin was too sensitive, but in the most delicious way. He’d bought softer sheets because Marshall Lee complained, and now they were wonderfully cool against his skin. Even the light brush of air from the cracked window made him shudder.

After a minute or two, Marshall Lee sat up, biting his lip as he shifted.

“Was that all right?” G.B. murmured. His voice sounded strange, unlike himself, but he enjoyed it. Sometimes he was tired of himself. Sometimes he wanted to be someone else.

Marshall Lee snorted. “Were you paying any goddamn attention?” He paused and bent to press a kiss to G.B.’s cheek. His whisper was light as his touch. “’Course it was, baby. Everything was perfect. Just got a mess to clean up, that’s all.”

G.B. put his hand on Marshall Lee’s wrist. “Wait.” Before Marshall Lee could say anything, G.B. turned and pinned him down to lick the stripes of cum off Marshall Lee’s chest and stomach, savoring the taste mingled with his sweat, the musky smell of sex. Marshall Lee stared at him, wide-eyed.

G.B. wiped his mouth, savoring the total lack of self-consciousness that still filled him. He laid back down, smirking at Marshall Lee’s stunned expression.

Marshall Lee fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

G.B.’s smirk widened. “I might. But you’ll enjoy it.”

Marshall Lee huffed and kissed him again. “Fuck off. Now I have to shower again.”

He moved over G.B., but G.B. put a hand on his hip, keeping him there. “Hold on. I’ll come with you.”

Marshall Lee rolled his eyes and called G.B. a clean freak, but he kissed G.B. anyway, long and slow and soft.

***

After the shower, they lay in bed with G.B. on his back and Marshall Lee tucked up beside him like always. G.B. didn’t bother trying to really settle down because he could tell something was still on Marshall Lee’s mind. He didn’t worry it was a bad something; though he wasn’t settled, Marshall Lee was remarkably calm, running his thumb over and over the curve of G.B.’s knuckles.

“You were right,” Marshall Lee said at last. “I told myself this had to be fucked up because a lot of things about us used to be fucked up, but it wasn’t.” He let out a long sigh. “Guess I’m not used to feeling safe or whatever.”

G.B. picked up his hand and kissed it. “You will be, if I have any say in the matter.”

Marshall Lee curled against G.B., resting his cheek on G.B.’s chest. “You’ve already said five billion things about it, dude.”

“Hush. It’s time for bed.” And G.B. closed his eyes and fell asleep to Marshall Lee’s irritated grumbles.


End file.
